Life Without You [Dedicated to Anna]

Five years. Well, maybe a few months shorter than five years. I thought to myself, trying to recall our last meeting.

The night moved on silently with its business, completely disregarding my presence. The sun drew its last breath and dived into the sea, coloring the horizon in a giant splash of red and gold. Applying for the celestial vacancy, the full moon rose confidently over the mountains of the east. A few brave stars blazed through the clean summer sky, and a warm breeze gently caressed the bare hilltop I was waiting on, in a rhythm of some forgotten, ancient music.

At first, I assumed that she chose this place out of nostalgia, but I now suspected that she was forced, as no other reasonably close location would do justice with a perfect night like this.

"Tonight, 19:30, the lonely hill just out of town. Come, it's urgent."

The barren words gave little room for subtext, even as I read them again and again. What might be so urgent after five, sorry, almost five years? The designated hour went by with no special occasion and I started to wonder if this is some kind of an hilarious practical joke I was yet to see.

I would have given a lot for such a text a few years ago. Despite being a pain-in-the-ass cynic when it came to romantic clichés, I really believed that we broke up "on good terms". Not being compatible as a couple seemed to me a very poor reason not to be friends anymore. On the contrary, I wanted to remain friends, which is to say, I desperately needed it. I needed to share some part of my life, even a minuscule one, with her - the person whom I considered for quite some time to be the future mother of my children. Her advice and attention were my secular version of a confessional. Even more so, I needed to know that she is happy, or at least, happier than she was with me.

Now however, this message only brought me distress and headaches. Next week I was planning to propose, and "going to chase some cryptic message from my former lover" wasn't really on the agenda. Hard to determine if it was genuine concern or simple curiosity, but I finally decided to discuss it with my partner. Initiating that conversation was a unique and personalized form of torture, but my (hopefully) soon-to-be wife, despite being a bit perplexed, was very supportive and implored me to go. “The speculation would drive you mad otherwise, and it does seem she needs your help.” The Irony was almost painfully noticeable: the woman I love and cherish, days before we merge our fates together, wanting me to revisit the relationship that made me a partner worthy and appreciative of her love. “I Love you.” I said and kissed her, lacking any words more adequate for this situation.

Beside the awkward conversation starter, the message also held little potential. It was quite some time ago that I've made peace with our non-relation. Love gave way to mere affection, which gave way to indifference. So the entire prospect of the meeting was, at least in a cost-benefit analysis, a questionable one. Not questionable enough, I thought as I stood there alone on the hill we once used to frequent.

I was about to call it a night when I noticed a distant figure starting to scale the little hill. The moon, although bright, was still low enough to shelter the entire ascent in its shadow. Nevermind, a few more minutes of patience and we will see what this is all about.

Of course, easier said than done. Years of unanswered questions raced through my mind. Does she want to start over? No, you were miserable together, and as far as you know, she was in a successful long-term relationship. Maybe it is some new wedding invitation concept? I ruled this possibility too since I am definitely not important enough to justify all this fuss. Maybe she is looking for a kidney donor? This would surely explain the urgency…

Well, as Sherlock Holmes said, when you have eliminated the impossible, you must be left with the truth.

The figure reached the top by the time I recalled my blood type and was ready to see if I could be of any use. To my surprise, it was a tall man stepping out of the shadows. He was slightly out of breath, but all in all expressionless and indifferent to my existence.

"I'm A negative, if it is good enough, let's rush to the hospital. It is all nice and scenic out here, but time is of the essence." I said with conviction that was well out of character for me.

He completely ignored everything I said and instead took a quick glance of the surrounding and then stared bleakly at the rising moon.

Maybe he is merely a fellow admirer of the view, I thought, or, finally recognizing him as her partner, maybe he got the same message as I. Some kind of a joke after all.

Giving in to the silence, I joined him and together we observed in reverence as the sky filled with more and more stars. I saw a picture of him once, but It was the first time that I’ve met him, so I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt for a while longer.

"She is dead", he said solemnly, not moving his gaze.

My stomach convoluted as if it was punched. 

"What!? what do you mean?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"SHE IS DEAD!" he repeated, this time louder, slower and visibly agitated.

"How is it possible? Was it an accident? When did it happen?"

"She had a sudden cardiac death, apparently this is something that can just happen. They announced her death yesterday."

"Did she… was there anythi—"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. No will, no letter, not even last words. Just death where there was life a moment before."

I needed to think but my brain was one incoherent mess of memories, questions, and emotions. I tried to speak but the only thing that I could master was "it doesn't make any sense".

Helpless, I sat on the ground, clutching my head as if to prevent it from falling. "It doesn't make any sense" I repeated as he sat beside me. 

It could have been a few minutes or a few hours until the silence was broken again. Time seemed like a moot concept, unworthy of consideration at this point. It really didn't make any sense, the words cycled inside of me. She was young and vibrant, she had so much left to do, so many dreams she was even yet to conceive. My experience with death so far was rather limited, but not at all insignificant. Family, friends, co-workers, young and old, disease and accidents. By this point in my life, death was no longer a foreign concept. And yet, never before have it seemed to me so misattributed as it was now. 

"I used her phone to write to you", he finally said, breaking the quite of the night, "I thought you should know, and this seemed like the least worst option."

"Thank you" I said, "are you… OK?", adding out of habit. Clearly, a colossally stupid question, but the words were already loose in the dry summer air, and there was no coming back. A less tolerant man might have filled my mouth with sand for this question, but he just chuckled uncomfortably. "When I don't think, everything's great! Otherwise… well, let’s just say that I would much prefer not to think."

Another long silence before I had enough courage to speak again.

"Why here?"

"I don't know exactly, she loved this place, you must have known that. And, ahem…, and I needed to share it with someone, make them see.” He stood up abruptly and continued. “I hoped that this place will allow me some comfort, but it is too crowded with memories. I am leaving.”

I didn’t bother with any more pleasantries. His quick steps were shortly indiscernible over the tender wind. “She is dead.” I whispered, “My first love… is gone”. I’ve long considered our last meeting to be our Last, but somehow this made it intolerably terminal. Seemingly, it changed nothing, and yet the difference burned my insides with sorrow. 

I’ve sat as a statue till the moon made its final decent towards the now completely blank horizon. I wished that some grate epiphany would have come by now, but to no avail. Grudgingly, I stood up and started walking home. My plans, my perspective, my memories, everything was exactly the same, but somehow entirely different.